This Is My Domain
by TwistedJabberjays
Summary: In a world where only I linger is a place where I can finally rest, undisturbed. But I can't, for a great evil still disturbs me, and I have to prevent the evil I helped create. I cannot allow harm to pass through reality, for that, is my true domain.
1. Afterlife

**PROLOGUE  
**_Afterlife_

Flying. Sailing. Soaring. Falling. The sensation of being thrown from the skies is terrifying, an endless pit of terror in my stomach. How can it be, that in one quick second, it's all over?

I haven't fallen from a cliff, a tree, a sky, a world, a puff of cloud. I haven't landed and broken every one of my bones, though it sure feels that way. I haven't even budged from my position, but how can it hurt so much?

The truth makes it hurt. Makes it ache. Makes it sing out in pain, cry in words I cannot hear. The truth is sometimes the most dangerous weapon of all, because it wipes away all essences of lies before it, like a wave washing away footprints on a beach. Those footprints are simply the imprints and scars the lies had made, but in my heart, they are unreachable and unwashable. The tide only cleanses the lies from me and informs me of the truth, but it doesn't make the everlasting impressions of lies go away.

It'll never go away.

Not even now, when I truly am flying through the air, watching what used to be my body stiffening in the field of flowers, going cold as life seeps away from it. I have torn free from my body, so technically, I'm dead. Am I? Shouldn't I be somewhere else, no longer attached to the living world? It mustn't be, because I'm still here, floating freely, as if this world is simply a rather large swimming pool and is trying to drown me in despair.

But I fight it.

I have a job to finish.

The first thing that comes to mind is that I need to stay attached to someone. Someone who knows the truth of the virus, or will know it. Amazingly, the first people I think of are not my father and brother, but the girl at the orphanage.

The one who had saved me from the dancing flames as they mesmerized me. The one who is my savior, but now, I'm dead anyways.

Am I dead? Is my spirit still alive? Or am I just hallucinating?

Either way, I need to find my savior. I feel... that one day... she will find out the truth. The future now comes so easily to me, though it's blurry and unfocused. But just for now, I know, that Maria Torres will be the hero she has always wanted to be.

I drift and linger in the patch of flowers, and then follow the Monarch butterflies to America.

* * *

Makes no sense? Good. It's designed to be that way.

Yes, welcome to fighterkirby's new, weird, story on Rosalia Rossellini. Was the prologue weird? Deal with it. Or see the alternate prologue, The Song of Death, under the story A World Full of Butterflies. The reason why I didn't include it is because... well, you know why. It was weird and it also made no sense.

Expect sucky chapter names. Okay?


	2. Before the Beginning

**CHAPTER ONE  
**___Before the Beginning_

_They came from me that day. I remember their faces, the blue-haired Albert Sartre, his face smoother than usual, free of the wrinkles that normally occupy it. He seemed taller than before, as if his experiments had made him shrink. But I remembered his face well, because he will be the only face I'll ever see in a few years._

_Beside him was a raven-haired kid, I estimated about fourteen years old. His red eyes darted around, as if he was paranoid, and expected someone to jump out. But no one did. The only person who jumped out was my friend Maria Torres, and her point was to scare me._

_"Rosalia," she called, beckoning. At fifteen years old, Maria was still one of the more childish teenagers, because she still played with seven-year-olds like me. But she was a good friend, and truly cared._

_"Yeah?" I asked cautiously, tearing my eyes away from the two strangers in the orphanage. But at the last second, the dark-haired boy looked at me straight in the eye, and I shivered at the sight of his crimson eyes. "What is it?" I asked quickly, spinning around, not wanting another look at the boy's eyes._

_But a few days later, those eyes were the only things I saw._

_They said that they wanted to adopt me. Me, as their own child. Me, as the kid they will raise forever. The scary boy with the vampire eyes will be my new brother._

_They will be my new family._

_It was hard saying goodbye to Maria. I watched her face, torn down in sorrow. It was once a proud, shining face, basking in the light of glory. Now, it was broken, crumbling under the stress of it all._

_"Goodbye, Rose," she whispered. I leaned up to hug her, but I barely reached her chest. Maria won't have a family to herself, won't be able to grow up with a mother and father at her sides... she'll grow up alone, and then leave the orphanage, still lost in the midst of loneliness._

_I had to force myself to tear myself from Maria's tight grasp, but I did. That was the last time I saw of her... before I passed away silently in the carpet of blue death._

_I wrote letters to her, but she never replied. I was worried that she had forgotten about me, or worse, hated me, because I was living with a new family. I was afraid to find out the truth of how she really thought about me, Crybaby Rose, the young girl at the orphanage._

_The mere thought buried me deep in regret._

* * *

So basically, this is just a random fanfic on the tales of Rosalia. I'll be alternating between Rosalia's life (in italics) and Rosalia's afterlife (in regular text). Now, you ask, why don't I just do it on chronological order?

This is just a story of memories. I'm not going to narrate every day of it. It'll jump from one time to another, sometimes with years in between. Get it? No? Too bad.

~fighterkirby, who had to finish this really hastily to get started on the Healing Warrior...


End file.
